


Family

by archangelgaybriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:23:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelgaybriel/pseuds/archangelgaybriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas hasn't been the same for Dean ever since his mother passed away in 1982, and it isn't much of festivity and cheer anymore, but he finds family in the unlikeliest of places - with his brother, a fallen angel and a geek, who winds up spending a memorable Christmas together anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> God bless my dirty soul I’m posting this with terrible wifi and terrible name. Also I made a reference to a video game in here and if you get the reference, !!!!!!!! I love you !!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> This work is part of destiel christmas minibang 2015 and I've been partnered up with fvckingjensen who is nothing short of an absolute **_ANGEL_** for being able to put up with me and all my crap, and for being such a wonderful partner!
> 
> Also this work is unedited, but I will work on it soon.

_December 25th, 1982._ Dean remembers this date - as clear as day. If someone were to ask him to pick the happiest points in his life, this would have to be one of them.

 

Preparations are at hand the day before. Dean eagerly volunteers to string up the Christmas decorations - putting up the fairy lights would be his favourite; he got to sit on his dad’s shoulders to hang them around the higher part of the tree, and watch as they twinkled and lit up the room. Later that day they all drive out to the mall, and Dean winds up picking a present for his brother who hasn’t been born yet, but it doesn’t matter because he’s excited all the same.

 

On the big day itself, Dean wakes up to find presents under the tree, most of them belonging to him. They spend the day baking gingerbread cookies (Dean gets the HONOUR of licking the spoon clean of batter) and watching _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_. For dinner that evening they have homemade turkey and potatoes, and Dean makes hot chocolate afterwards. He adds so many marshmallows to his that he stops seeing his drink underneath.

 

And when they think he’s not looking, his father slips an arm around his mother’s waist and presses a soft kiss to her temple; his mom responds with a look that’s filled with so much adoration. They both look so blissful, so content, that Dean thinks that he must be very lucky to have such a loving family, and even luckier that he gets to spend all of his Christmases like this, going to bed feeling warm all over and a gentle kiss on his forehead to conclude the day.

 

Dean thinks that Christmas might be his favourite holiday, if that title weren’t already occupied by his birthday. He can’t wait for next year’s Christmas, and with his little brother born, he can’t imagine how much more fun he’s going to have, and how much warmer the Christmas is going to be.

 

* * *

 

 

December 1983.

 

Ever since the fire, ever since his mom left, Christmas isn’t the same anymore.

 

They don’t have much of a permanent home, so on the 25th Dean finds himself in the home of Missouri Moseley. The woman is slightly intimidating, towering over Dean’s small frame, but she’s friendly and kind-hearted, and Dean finds himself warming up to her quickly. Dinner that day is quiet, interspersed with the occasional small talk and the clinking of utensils. His father tries to smile and lighten the mood, but they’re all still wreaked with desolation, the weight of grief suffocating, choking them.

 

He misses his mom, he misses his mom so much. He wished that they were back in their old house, that it wasn’t burnt and reduced to a pile of ashes, that it was her and not Missouri that was setting the table, or putting the food on his plate, or giving him assuring glances and comforting smiles. He wishes and wishes and wishes and thinks that if he squeezes his eyes shut long enough and then open them, things will go back to how they were, but nothing changes. The emptiness is palpable.

 

There is still hot chocolate, but Dean finds that it isn’t as thick and it isn’t as sweet. They watch a movie, this time _It’s A Wonderful Life._ His father doesn’t watch it with them, instead whispering with Missouri in the kitchen, both talking with hushed voices.

 

He goes to sleep on an unfamiliar bed, and tries to not think about the Christmas that he had the previous year, or the crippling ache of loss.

 

* * *

 

 

They don't really celebrate Christmas anymore, but they haven't exactly been festive for a few years now, and Dean’s grown accustomed to it. Christmas is just like any other day, except that there are little trees with flashing LEDs everywhere and Christmas songs are being played at every single diner they step into.

 

The gift giving... Stops, after a while. There aren't presents under the tree, not anymore. His father’s also rarely with them anymore unless they're on the road - instead he's out on hunts, or as Dean tells his brother, “working”.

 

Sam however, with his constant yearning to be a “normal kid” whatever that was, never let the tradition of giving gifts stop. So they kept giving each other things, cheap little things from convenience stores, whatever they could buy with the little money they had. And it wasn't much, but it was enough, and undeniably the day got a little better and his steps felt a little lighter.

 

* * *

 

 

25th December 2015.

 

That's the date Dean reads on the clock when he wakes up on an ordinary morning just like every other ordinary day, only to find an unexpected waft of something baking lingering in the air. So the first thing that comes to mind is, of course, _Oh, that smells really good._

 

It doesn't register immediately that it's _Christmas_ , so unsurprisingly the myriad of thoughts that pops into Dean’s mind isn't in any way festive but is instead: what’s the occasion? Why is someone baking? Who in the bunker is capable of _not_ burning food _but_ him? The bunker has emergency exits in all areas of the building in case of a fire, the smoke alarms are good and working last time he checked ,their safety is guaranteed, any unsupervised baking is _A-OK._

 

He swings his feet off the bed and makes his way into the kitchen as quietly as possible, feeling much like a dog sniffing out treasure. His footsteps leads him to the kitchen (duh) and the sight before him makes him do a double- no, a triple take.

 

There behind the counter is Charlie with her hair up in a bun, adding and whisking ingredients in a bowl. Then there's Cas, standing awkwardly at her side, restless arms hovering by his side, wearing an apron over what must be the most _hideous_ Christmas sweater Dean’s ever seen.

 

Not to mention, there is flour _everywhere._

 

Flour was dusting his sweater, in his messy hair (probably was running his fingers through them and getting flour all over without noticing, Dean fondly guesses), and the look is finished off with a set of perfect white handprints on the back of his pants (Dean was _not_ staring at all, thank you very much).

 

“What's all this?” Dean asks, furrowing his eyebrows and gesturing at the mess of a kitchen before him.

 

Cas just stares at him, like he can't believe that’s what Dean’s confused about. “It's Christmas,” he answers, just as Charlie chirps “butterscotch cinnamon pie!”

 

Dean chuckles, eyeing Cas’ sweater. “Yeah, I could tell from your... elaborate tree cosplay.”

 

Cas almost looks offended at Dean’s amusement, huffing and putting his hands on his hips. He gives Charlie an accusing look. “You told me it was cute.”

 

“I mean it!” Charlie replies quickly, arms raised defensively. Dean gets a sinking feeling when her features turn impish, and she smiles widely at Dean. “Right, Dean? It's cute on Cas, isn't it?”

 

Dean chokes, hand going up to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze to the suddenly very interesting contents on table. The art of geometric butterscotch stacking has never been more captivating.

 

Then, as nonchalantly as he can muster, he answers. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

Charlie beams, so widely Dean’s afraid her face might snap in half if she doesn't stop. Beside her Cas blushes, flour-caked hands petting the side of his pants clumsily, painting them even whiter.

 

Dean clears his throat. “So, is there anything I can help with?”

 

Charlie’s still smiling, the action filling Dean with unease. “If you could go outside to the library and help decorate the tree, that would be great.”

 

He complies, stepping out of the kitchen and make his way there, but her words don't fully sink in until he's standing in the library, standing facing what might be the biggest tree he’s _ever_ seen. It's a good deal taller than him, Sam even. Surrounding the tree is baubles and mini stars and fairy lights scattered all over the floor.

 

“Holy shit,” he murmurs to himself.

 

“Do you like it?” a voice behind him asks, and he turns to find Cas standing behind him, still in that ridiculous apron and the even more ridiculous sweater. He startles, clearly not expecting to see Cas there.

 

“Charlie said I was more of a hassle than a help,” Cas explains, frowning. He looks down at the flour dusting his clothes, almost helplessly. “I think it has something to do with being able to get ingredients in every single place but the bowl.”

 

“You were the one who picked this out?” Dean asks, and Cas nods.

 

“When?” Dean questions, thoroughly confused. He doesn't remember Cas leaving the bunker, much less carrying an entire tree back to put in the bunker. “And why?”

 

“Last night. I don't sleep so I thought I'd go out and… get ourselves a tree.”

 

Dean snorts, gaze returning to the massive tree. “This must've been worth what, five rounds of pool hustling?”

 

Cas doesn't reply, and when Dean looks at him he finds the angel looking fidgeting inexplicably. “My tree-obtaining methods might have been less legal and more complimentary.”

 

Dean’s eyes widen at the realization and Cas just shrugs weakly and rushes out, “in my defense, the store wasn't even open.”

 

He can't help it, he barks out a laugh, and swings his arm around Cas’ shoulder, pulling the angel closer, a gesture that is somehow all too familiar and foreign at the same time. “Oh, man, that's amazing.”

 

He slips his arm off Cas a beat too late, and tries to squash down his disappointment at the loss of contact and heat. Instead he says, “I haven't done this for a long time,” and the memories come rushing back, slightly fuzzy but painfully bittersweet nonetheless. He still remembers, the sound of his mother’s melodious laughter, the press of his father's shoulders against his thighs as he uses the added height to hang the rest of the lights at the top of the tree, the warmth of her arms around him.

 

A gentle touch on his shoulder grounds him, jolting him back to the present. “Would you mind if I join you?” Cas asks softly, and Dean is grateful for the timely interception.

 

Dean responds with a “sure” and so they spend the afternoon hanging up the decorations and making small talk. They stand too close, shoulders brushing frequently, making heat rise up Dean’s neck and turning his cheeks pink, but none of them moves away, and Dean finds that he doesn't want to.

 

Cas tells him about how Christmas, surprisingly, isn't much of a big deal in Heaven, and the angels just go about their daily routine. “It's just my father’s birthday,” Cas explains, and then goes on to explain that birthdays aren't a big deal in heaven either. Dean then goes to say that “well, seems like we have a lot more in common with your family than we think”, and Cas looks nervous, so Dean quickly amends. “But I do appreciate the effort. It's been a while, and I… forgot how nice this was.” Cas smiles, a widely and elatedly, eliciting a flutter in Dean’s heart.

 

Halfway through decoration they notice that they’re missing the angel at the top of the tree, and there’s too little candy canes, tiny golden trumpets and mini wreaths for Dean’s liking. He makes a joke about calling Sam and Charlie to come help hoist Cas up on the top as substitute, earning himself a rare eye-roll.

 

As he's rummaging through the baubles his elbow knocks into an unmarked box and out tumbles mistletoe after mistletoe. _Mistletoe._ He knows what it entails. He hastily goes to pick them up, face burning hot at the thought of kissing Cas, his lips sliding against-

 

At that moment, there's the telltale thump as the door of the bunker opens and then slams shut, and in strolls in Sam. He’s carrying an armful of bags with snowflakes and snowmen printed on them.

 

“You guys started without me?” Sam says mock accusingly, stumbling his way towards them, dumping the bags at their feet. Turns out Sam was out buying more decorations (to Dean’s delight, more candy canes and mini golden trumpets and an angel to go on the top of the tree). The second to last finishing touch is hanging the Christmas lights, which Dean volunteers to do by himself, and nostalgia washes over him. Sam gives him a weird look, while the look on Cas’ face is understanding, like he knows.

 

Finally, putting the angel on top of the tree. Dean jokingly suggested that Cas be the one to do it, but after several unsuccessful attempts it was clear that out of three of them only one was not _vertically-challenged_ enough to do it. The angel is sat right at the very top of a ludicrously tall tree, and the Christmas tree is complete.

 

They eat turkey and butterscotch cinnamon pie that Charlie baked and Dean shamelessly inhaled. Later they’re sat on the couch, Dean’s feet tucked underneath his thighs, shoulders brushing against Cas’, blanket spread over them. _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ is playing on the screen (when Charlie suggested playing it, Dean hadn't protested) but Dean’s less focused on show and more focused on the angel who's sitting beside him, eyes intent on the screen. He has his legs crossed and he's propped his chin on the palm of his hand. When something funny happens he laughs, shoulders shaking, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He doesn't notice Dean sneaking glances.

 

After a while Sam gets up and announces too loudly, “I’m gonna get more popcorn” and then makes too big a show of walking away. Dean starts to get nervous, of course, because his brother was never a good actor and he was definitely up to something. He and Charlie, who's sniggering to herself on the sofa, looking too proud of herself.

 

His worry isn't in vain because not more than a  minute later something brushes against his cheek. He turns, and then immediately wishes he hadn't. Dean chokes on nothing.

 

There's a mistletoe. There's a mistletoe right above his head, dangling between him… and Cas.

 

Holding the mistletoe is none other than his brother, who has a million dollar smile plastered all over his stupid, smug face.

 

Dean stills, blush rising up his cheeks, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Across him, Cas hesitates, giving him fleeting glances, the look on his face indecipherable.

 

Then the unthinkable happens, and Cas leans forward, placing the lightest of kisses on the corner of Dean’s mouth.

 

It catches him completely off guard, and before he can shift to slide their lips together, Cas is already pulling back, his eyes back on the screen. It's almost as if nothing happened, and Dean might've convinced himself that if it weren't for the small smile etched on Cas’ face, which doesn't go away for a long while.

 

At the 45 minute mark, Dean reaches his hand towards Cas’ outstretched palm and laces their fingers together. His heart is beating wildly. Both their eyes don't stray from the screen. From the other couch, Charlie snorts.

 

At the 1 hour and 3 minute mark, Cas drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder. Both of them don't move.

 

At the 1 hour and 7 minute mark, Dean rests his head against Cas’.

 

The movie ends and Dean’s reluctant to move, and Cas doesn't seem like he wants to be anywhere else either. Sam jumps up and puts on Home Alone, which everyone knows has to be succeeded by the next four movies, and Cas makes himself more comfortable, snuggling up even closer.

 

Dean tries to hide his smile.

 

* * *

 

 

December 25th. 1983. Dean thinks he doesn't have much of a family anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

December 25th. 2015. Dean's so proud, so ridiculously proud to be surrounded by people who love and care for him so much. He still recalls Bobby saying, again and again, a mantra, family don't end in blood, and those words have never been truer.

 

* * *

 

  
At some point in time during the fourth movie his eyelids flutter shut, and he drifts off, feeling all warm and gooey and mushy inside, the warmth from the angel and the weight of his head on his shoulder a comforting lull, easing him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr or on twitter!!


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